


easier to breathe

by carryyourownbanner



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Meeting the Parents, Mother-Son Relationship, POV Simon Snow, baz is a good boyfriend, simon is in therapy where he belongs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25125718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryyourownbanner/pseuds/carryyourownbanner
Summary: “How are you feeling?”I huff through my nose. My hands aren’t gripping my knees until my knuckles are white anymore, but they’re shaking and the palms are sweating. “Like I might hurl,” I admit, but sit up straight quickly. “I mean; nothing against you. Or your house. Or your husband or your son or your daughters- it’s just a lot, and I didn’t even know about this until Baz- Basil- told me on Tuesday-““I understand what you mean,” she says, like I haven’t just used 80 words where about 4 would’ve sufficed.
Relationships: Simon Snow & Daphne Grimm, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 105





	easier to breathe

I honestly don’t know what I expected.

Between Baz and I, I think I’m definitely the most optimistic. And yet he’s the one who invited me to Hampshire for he weekend, completely unprompted- he said something about his stepmother wanting to meet me. She was nice last time I was there, but if she’s anything like his father-

I haven’t been to Hampshire since Christmas. It’s nearly May, now, and while Baz visiting me on the weekends hasn’t been a rare occurrence, he’s been coming to me. He pops up in London nearly every Friday night, and leaves early Sunday (in theory. I’ve made him stay late more than a few times but I don’t think he’s complaining, despite the occasional protest about his academics and his beauty sleep. As if he needs any more of that)

But Hampshire is- well, it feels like hostile territory. The magic has started coming back, slowly, but I still can’t shake the way Baz looked at me that night...

Point is, I have no idea how I’ll be received.

I have a few ideas. It’s not like I can expect a warm fatherly hug from Baz’s dad and a clap on the back. He’s not like Agatha’s father. He’s... distant. He’s a little like Baz like that, so I try to have an open mind. It’s just- well. I’m not a girl. He wants Baz to bring home a girl.

I don’t need his approval, and neither does Baz. I can’t avoid this forever...

I said yes to the dinner invite, although I wish I could just spend another weekend curled up with Baz on the sofa watching ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. 

And now it’s a reality. The week went by in a flash and here I am, in the passenger seat of Baz’s car, who‘s silent- in a comfortable way- as he takes us to his family home. All of our silences are comfortable, lately. It’s... really nice, although it does nothing for my thoughts that can’t decide if they want to whirl around my head dizzyingly or cease completely.

The sight of the place always manages to shock me, although arriving with your boyfriend to a place you’re welcome in- at least, for him- is different than trudging through the snow all the way from the main road to a great imposing mansion where you have no idea if you’ll be well received. 

Nobody’s outside to meet us, or in the foyer. It’s nearly dinnertime, though, so it makes sense, and Baz doesn’t seem too worried. He always makes things look so easy. 

Then again, it is his family.

I think I squeeze his hand a bit too tightly, because he asks, “Alright, love?”

“I think I might be sick-“

Baz opens his mouth to answer but we’re then greeted by who I think is his oldest little sister, maybe around seven or eight- but then again, I sort of forgot how many there were, so I’m not to be entirely trusted on that front. I know her name, though- Mordelia- because Baz said it the moment she walked in.

“Father says you’re late,” she says, and it’s so very matter-of-fact. That must be the Malcolm in her- in both of them. 

“That would- uh- be my bad,” I say, quickly. I wasn’t lying before- I don’t know why I’m so nervous that I can’t talk to a seven year old. “I kept Baz waiting because I couldn’t do my tie-“

“And you’re just fine,” he cuts in, meeting my gaze firmly even when I try to look away, before looking back down at his sister. “Tell Father I need a moment with Snow. He’s only just gotten here.”

She eyes me curiously for a moment before huffing and leaving us alone again in the foyer.

He grabs my other hand. “Snow-“

“Simon,” I say. “Please. I need Simon right now.”

“Simon,” he tries again, softer this time. “You’ve done this all before. The fancy dinner, the suits, my father-“

“I wasn’t your boyfriend then,” I interrupt him, and I know I shouldn’t have when he eyes me sternly.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t expect you to be a different person. I don’t think anybody could sway you, especially not when you’ve got your chin pushed out and your feet apart. You think you’re invincible, sunshine,” he squeezes my hands like I’d done before. He’s started calling me that lately. Sunshine. I think it started as a teasing thing, but I like it. I like it out of Baz’s mouth.

“And your Father- I’m not, well, uh- I’m not exactly what he wants for-“

I don’t get to finish. Baz is kissing me, and I smile for the first time since he picked me up. 

“You’re what I want, Simon,” he says, with the same emphasis on my name as before. “No matter what. No matter what happens tonight, or ever.”

——

To say the least, dinner didn’t go off without a hitch. 

For starters, during the first half nobody said a word (except Baz, who asked his stepmother to pass a plate).

I don’t know how I feel about her, really. She seems lovely. She seems... well. Motherly. I don’t know if I’m projecting a need here, but I don’t want to be disappointed.

When someone does talk, properly, it’s Baz’s father, and it’s to me.

He asked me how I find London proper. I said very well, thank you, like a right posh wanker. I hate it here, I think, but then I see the slight curl of a smile on Baz’s lips from where I sit beside him. I’d swat him if I could. Or kiss him.

It’s a lot of horrible small talk that I’ve never been very good at. My face is heating up, but I think I’m holding up decently...

I don’t know how to do any of this. And I certainly don’t know how to answer when he asks me about how I’m faring without my magic. 

“Uh- well. It’s been difficult,” I say, carefully. 

I guess I don’t belong in more ways than one; I’d just been so focused on Baz’s status that I’d forgotten about the mess of other problems.

“For someone who’s never been able to to harness his powers, it’s surely quite a relief,” he says, and if I was still that useless magician I used to be (now  
I’m just useless) I’m sure everyone would be able to smell smoke.

Baz clears his throat. His father doesn’t look pleased, but I think he gets the hint... either way, I’m glad for it because he stops talking. I don’t have to answer.

No one says much after that. Eventually, once dinner’s finished and everyone’s moved to the greater family room, I’ve zoned out proper while Baz and his dad are talking about who knows what. Merlin, Baz is a good actor. I guess he’s had lots of practice hiding his feelings.

Me, not so much. I’m a bomb when I’m angry and a fountain when I’m crying. I make it the worlds’ business that I’m upset. It’s not an attention thing- I don’t think it’s an attention thing- I just really, really can’t help it.

And this is all so much.

I just want to be with Baz, but this is everything that comes with it.

I just need to walk for a minute- I can’t sit on this dingy sofa any longer.

He looks at me when I get up- they all do, save the youngest girls, I can see them out of the corner of my eye, but I’m looking at Baz. He looks confused; a little concerned. I clear my throat. I don’t need my voice to break right now.

“I’ll just be a moment. I’d like a breath of fresh air,” I say, as politely as I can. I wasn’t made for this. I want to be, for Baz, but there are things I can’t change overnight. That’s what my therapist told me, because I’m so stressed about things I can’t change.

I don’t know how any of this bloody house is laid out. I wasn’t exactly paying attention when Baz took me inside, either... whichever instance you pick. 

I do find a sitting room, though, a cozy place next to the kitchen (I can smell it) and I sit down on the couch. I curl a little, even though I don’t want to. I don’t think anyone followed me, and if anyone would, it’d be Baz, and he understands. 

I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at the drapes across the room or the back of my eyelids, listening to the clock on the mantle tick. It’s almost as sickening as the small talk from before, but it’s manageable.

I get lost in it, match my breathing to it.

That’s probably why I don’t hear footsteps at first, despite the fact that she’s wearing heels- the sort you always hear clicking in a much more satisfying way than the clock does. It doesn’t drive me mad so much, but when I open my eyes and see her there- I hadn’t turned a lamp on, all I see is a dimly lit impression- I nearly jump out of my skin. 

“Mrs. Grimm?”

I see her smile. It reminds me of Penny’s, a little bit, just in the way it’s aimed at me. It doesn’t stay long.

“I thought you needed a breath of fresh air-?”

I start babbling and all at once I can’t stop. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the door, and I just needed a moment to relax, I didn’t mean to wander your house-“ 

She shakes her head quickly, putting up a hand. “No matter. The grounds at night here can be quite imposing-“ she squints. “Well, Simon, you could’ve turned a light on.”

And with that she does; a tall standing by the entrance I must’ve missed.

“Much better,” she says, looking around. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You found my reading nook, you know,” she comments. I see some books on the side table now that she’s got the light on. “I think I’ve seen Basil in here once or twice; but I like to think of it as my small space in such a big house.”

I nod. I think of Baz, in the larger sitting room with his father and sisters, and I’m suddenly grateful all over again that I’m away. Such a tiny, foreign room has never put me at ease like this.

“It is big,” I say, dumbly. “When I saw Baz- I mean, Basil’s bedroom for the first time I thought it was pretty useless, for a bedroom, even if he’s got some books in there-“ I stop myself. I still don’t look her in the eyes, but I’m not completely moronic. “Are you gonna sit down?” 

I meant it as a polite offer, but out loud it just sounds stupid. Maybe I am completely moronic.

I think she takes it as an invitation. I probably look like a cornered animal right now, I realize, and I try to relax my grip on my knees. 

“You must feel very lost here,” she says, and I just nod. I already admitted that- in a literal sense. “How are you feeling?”

I huff through my nose. My hands aren’t gripping my knees until my knuckles are white anymore, but they’re shaking and the palms are sweating. “Like I might hurl,” I admit, but sit up straight quickly. “I mean; nothing against you. Or your house. Or your husband or your son or your daughters- it’s just a lot, and I didn’t even know about this until Baz- Basil- told me on Tuesday-“

“I understand what you mean,” she says, like I haven’t just used 80 words where about 4 would’ve sufficed, while she looks around airily. “I can’t imagine how jarring it is for you, but I know this place is a bit... scary. It carries a charm after a while, though.” She looks at me. “Much like some of its inhabitants. I know you and Basil haven’t always gotten along, but look at where you two are now...”

“He’s amazing,” I say, breathily, and I’d honestly meant to just think it. 

“...and I haven’t seen him this at ease in his own home as long as I’ve been here. I haven’t seen him this happy, either... but I think I’ve seen him smile more since Christmas than I have the rest of the time I’ve known him.”

I swallow and nod, though it’s getting a little easier to breathe. I even relax into the sofa a little. 

“It’s just- I come from the exact opposite of all this. In terms of, er, people, and...” I search for a word- “assets.” A fair enough way to say I’m broke and have no friends in high places to pull strings for me other than Baz. And, well, that makes him sound like my sugar daddy, so I tend to shy away from thinking of it like that. “And I know I’m not what everyone wants.” A girl, preferably, but mostly someone who has their shit together, man or woman or anything in between.

She looks at her lap and nods. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Simon. I may speak only for myself when I say this, but if you’re what Basil wants, you’re good enough for him in my eyes.” She has a spark in her eyes when she looks up at me. I realize I feel comfortable, and I realize I’m smiling. 

“I know I’m not his mother, but I love him just the same. You’ve brought out a very special side of our Basil, Simon Snow.”

In all my years of very turbulent emotional breakdowns, I don’t think happiness has ever been the cause of one. I don’t think I’ve ever cried because I was so happy...

But I feel my eyes watering now, and I don’t think I’m scared. I don’t think I’m angry. I feel choked up, so I stare at my lap in silence.

I see her offer her hand out of the corner of my eye. I don’t even think; I just take it. She squeezes.

When I have the courage to look up, she’s watching me. Patiently. Perhaps I was right about motherly.

“I hope you can see me as someone you can turn to in the future,” she says, softly. “I know what it’s like to be in an unfamiliar place for the sake of someone you love. You get out of the shallow end and you don’t always know how to swim.”

I feel a hot tear on my cheek. She doesn’t say anything else after that, and it’s a moment of silence that I use to sort out my thoughts.

I realize I’ve felt like this before. When Baz’s mother kissed my temple. When she called Baz her rosebud boy. Is this what it would be like to have...

I make a noise in my throat and I wipe the stray tear, although it’s replaced quickly by a few more. She’s turned her body towards me and I’m the one who hugs her, arms around her shoulders. I feel her pat my back, and her other hand on the back of my head. I’m exhausted. I could fall asleep, I think, which would be the first time I fell asleep easily in this house. 

I don’t, but she holds me a few moments, and I swear I feel a slight swaying. 

Who would I have been if I’d had this earlier? No time to think about that now.

I don’t really like thinking. It’s probably good that I don’t; at least when it pertains to the past. There’s nothing anyone can do to change that.

When I take my head off of her shoulder, I see the time on the clock that’s been ticking loudly the whole time. It’s not late; only eight.

“Do you want me to tell Basil where you’ve gone?”

“Yes,” I answer, quickly and easily despite my sleepiness. “Yeah, could you? That’d be great, uh- ma’am.”

She smiles and the corners of her eyes wrinkle. “Daphne or Mother is fine. If you want a quick response around here, with all those little ones, better err toward the latter.”

“Okay, ma’am- Daphne.”

I’d use mother if I knew how. 

The way things are looking, I think- maybe one day- I will.


End file.
